


Circle of Fire

by wyrdo



Series: Overcome by Events [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awkward Crush, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Requited Unrequited Love, The Hawke Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyrdo/pseuds/wyrdo
Summary: The one wherein:Bethany gets her Knight in shining armor.Cullen experiences the full force of the "Hawke Snark" and lives.We find out just how freakin' scary Marian Hawke is.And there is little solace in Solace.





	Circle of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> so, uh. It really bothers me that i don't speak the Queen's English. Because all that British stuff makes Cullen seem more.... Ferelden. I see no need to represent accents, but I just don't know enough British turns of phrases (could do, rubbish, subway, and pissed might be the only ones) Plus i don't really know when i've used a distinctly American one. Does that make sense?
> 
> \- Oddly enough, it doesn't bug me that i don't SPELL the Queen's English
> 
> So i'm wondering if anybody out there is a native Brit and wants to help me make my Fereldens sound less like an American pretending to be British and more like a Ferelden who has their own turns of phrase.

**Kirkwall, 11 Solace, 9:32 Dragon**

"Leave her alone!" Cullen heard a familiar but angry voice reach him. He immediately began to scan the area for the source of the voice.

The unrest between mages and templars was wearing on him, and since Meredith would do nothing, she wouldn't even let him investigate the charges Hawke had made, Cullen decided to assign himself even more supervisory "rounds." It was close to curfew and he was walking along the most heavily traveled path from the library to the mage's dormitory.

"You want to take her place, Enchanter Hawke?" a male voice, low and threatening.

Cullen turned his head, this way and that. Sound carried oddly among the stone walls and corridors of the Gallows and he could not determine the source. It was clear enough, but he could not find it. He began an all out search.

"I may prefer them small and tight, but in a pinch, any whore will do." The words were followed by the sound of metal on flesh and an unarmored body hitting stone.

"How dare you!" Bethany's voice reached him. "I'll have you brought up on char..."

"What?" the male voice said, a hint of mockery in it. "Who would believe the words of a maleficar over a Templar? You just try it. Now kneel, bitch." As he spoke, the man's voice grew more and more threatening. Cullen understood the implication.

Cullen heard a cry. He knew it. It was the sound of a mage drained of all her mana. A particular mage. The first sound he remembers hearing her make.  When they bound her magic to take her to the Gallows. It was followed by cloth tearing. Cullen searched every hallway, unable to pinpoint the source of the sound. What he could no longer pretend, was that the attacker was other than a Templar. He felt sick. One of **his** men. Fury rushed through him and Cullen wanted to run, but he did not want to let the attacker hear him coming. He needed proof.

He turned a corner to find a Templar holding Bethany Hawke against a wall by her throat while working his breeches with one hand. Her robes were torn her smallclothes in disarray. Both of her hands grasped her attacker's and she was turning red from lack of air.

At her feet lay an apprentice, Cullen could sense magic from the girl so he knew she was still alive but she could have extensive injuries, especially if she had twisted her neck or hit her head too hard.

Cullen's sword leapt to his hands and he scoured the area looking for any additional attackers. Where was the Templar who was supposed to be on rounds, here, right now?

The sound of metal on metal alerted the other Templar to his approach, but he paid little attention. He did not even look back, he simply waved toward the elf on the ground "You take that one." he rasped "This one will need to learn respect."

Bethany met his eyes but could not see his sword. He saw her stiffen and a shutter closed on her face, the eyes that regarded him were resigned. For some reason it hurt him that she thought he was a conspirator in this. But now was not the time for that.

"I think not" Cullen said, his own voice low and just as threatening as her attacker's had been. His sword was now completely visible to the mage. "and it is you, who need learn respect."

As soon as the man heard Cullen's voice he knew he'd made a huge mistake. The hand left Bethany's throat and she sank to the ground rubbing it and gasping for breath.

The cretin drew his own sword and Cullen simply stared at him. Now that he could see the man's face, he recognized him vaguely, a recent transfer from Wyckham. "Sheathe your sword, Ser Knight." Cullen said, stressing the last two words, "and you will survive until your court martial."

The young man appeared to consider it, then changed his mind. From the corner of Cullen's eyes, he saw a glyph below his feet and prepared a smite. But it was not followed by pain, fire or even fear. Instead, his attacker's sword struck a barrier. If he hadn't had years of muscle memory to draw from, he'd have stared at the mage. He raised his shield and began a swing when another glyph appeared under the other man and he froze.

In a move Cullen didn't think he'd ever be able to duplicate, he switched his grip mid-swing and his pommel struck the man soundly in the side of the head. The bastard hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

Cullen turned to Bethany, his mind already going over the series of events and his respect for the Enchanter was strengthened further. She had enhanced his own defenses, and while what she had done to her attacker could legally be called an attack, any injury the man took was at Cullen's hand. Technically she had NOT attacked a Templar. That technicality would save her.

His own testimony would help.

In the time Cullen had spent blinking at her, Bethany had crawled over to the elf, one hand holding her ruined garment up, and begun healing spells. One hand could not really protect her modesty, however and he had a clear view of her small clothes through the torn cloth.

His eyes took in the elf's condition. Then returned to Bethany's... face.

"Will she..." Cullen coughed, looking back to the elf's face, at the other man, anywhere but at the Enchanter's torn robes. His neck felt like it was in a vice and he reached back to try to loosen the muscle. A headache threatened. "Will she be all right?"

He knelt down and loosened his cloak and placed it over the Enchanter's shoulders and she clutched it closed, covering herself.

Then he reached for the injured apprentice. Her pulse was strong, but the other man had been wearing gauntlets, and the dull edge split the flesh of the girl's exaggerated elven cheekbones. He removed his own gauntlets and dropped them to the floor.

Bethany had focused her healing effort on that cheekbone, Cullen presumed it was broken, but he heard an odd catch in the elf's breathing and turned his search elsewhere.

His fingers found a soft spot in her ribcage. The thing that had him gasping, was that the damage was under a repaired tear. It was not fresh. He closed his eyes. This was not the first time she had been attacked. Worse, it was reminiscent of an injury common to those injured by a shield. Nobody at the Gallows save Templars had shields. This was not the first time the girl had been attacked by one of **his** men.

Cullen clenched his hands in white hot fury and Bethany looked across the girl and into his eyes. He waved toward the repaired tear and she focused her attention there. Her own eyes went flinty at what she found. Several choice curses came to mind but he swallowed them. He was in the presence of ladies for pity's sake.

When Bethany looked back at him he asked. "Why? Why would she not come to me?"

"And be branded maleficar?" Bethany spat at him. As if he should already know better.

In her voice he heard Hawke and Anders' accusations. Abuse of Tranquil. Forcing apprentices into early harrowings or harrowed mages into tranquility for stupid charges and then continuing to abuse those who were unable to stand up for themselves. He had promised Marian he would look into it.

He took in the anger in Bethany... Enchanter Hawke's eyes. He wanted to reach for her, to tell her he could fix this. To hold her in his arms and push that loose curl out of her face. To kiss her and... Oh Maker. Cullen bit his tongue, the copper taste bringing him back to himself.

If she saw his weakness, she pretended she hadn't, which he supposed was for the best seeing what she had just been through.

He shook his head, leaning back as the apprentice began to come to her senses. "Be... Enchanter Hawke." he started as she reached to help the elf up "will _you_ be all right?"

He moved to relieve her of her burden but the young elf squealed and turned her head toward the Enchanter, scuttling away from him.

Cullen saw red. He was going to personally behead the man. With the full force of his anger, Cullen turned away from the women, hearing Bethany hush the girl and speak gently to her. He reached down for the bastard and began roughly binding his elbows behind him.

While Bethany gently lifted the poor elf up, Cullen was not gentle at all. He slung the man over his shoulder, not caring that his head bounced off the back of Cullen's cuirass. Cullen would like to do far worse.

"Enchanter Hawke." Cullen said gently turning to the two women "when you have seen your charge to the infirmary, please find the First Enchanter and meet me in my office. If possible, bring a list of all injuries that may be related to... attacks on her person for the last four days."

Bethany nodded, still hushing the elf and turned toward the infirmary.

Cullen shifted his own burden, smiling as the man's head bounced off his armor again. This was far from over. No rest for the weary. Cullen would have to locate the templar on duty, or replace him or her.

\-----

"...If you punish her for standing up for a friend I will appeal to the Seeker's of Truth." To say that the First Enchanter was livid would not accurately describe the man's actual state. On a scale of one to ten, the first enchanter, was around 13.

"First. Enchanter." Cullen said slowly and quietly. The man hesitated mid-tirade. "Breathe, or I fear you will die of an excess of spleen."

Orsino opened his mouth to continue, but Cullen held up a hand. The First Enchanter was forced to take a breath, then another and while he maintained his place between Cullen and Bethany he seemed more receptive.

"You mistake me, First Enchanter." He began keeping his voice even and soothing. "The only person I intend to punish is already in a cell."

"You... what?" Orsino looked between Cullen and Bethany his big green eyes wide.

"Ser Brandies violated his oath and with the help of his victims, I would see him stripped of rank at the very least."

"I would see him stripped of rank, flogged, castrated and run out on a rail, myself" Enchanter Hawk said acerbically, joining the conversation for the first time.

Cullen could not keep from cringing at the force of her words, and her sudden extreme resemblance to her sister, but her recognized the emotion behind it.

"Er.." he said lamely. "I mean, firstly Enchanter Hawke, I wish to apologize. I saw enough of apprentice..." he paused, trying to bring the apprentice's name to mind.

"Suriel." Orsino supplied, his eyes narrowed.

"Apprentice Suriel's injuries that she became my primary concern and I did not inquire as to your own injuries."

Bethany gasped. He looked at her and saw such emotion in her brown eyes that he had to clench his right hand to keep from reaching for her.

"I am not... injured." she finally choked out.

Cullen nodded, suddenly unable to speak. He forced his eyes to focus on Orsino and not Bethany.

"Am I right in assuming that this is not the first time this has happened? The tear in Apprentice Suriel's robe had been repaired and the broken rib below was not fresh."

 _It was also caused by a shield._ he thought to himself. Cullen clenched both hands, feeling helpless and furious to think that this had gone on under his nose. That he had sheltered this sort of predator and it had not been brought to his attention. He had not seen it. He should have seen it.

Bethany stepped forward. She wore a fresh robe, more yellow than the green she usually wore. It was not flattering, but he had a feeling her beauty would shine even in sack cloth.

 _Oh Maker, why did I think of sack cloth?_ visions of Enchanter Hawke's long legs trailing out from under a potato sack danced in his head. _focus lad, you are supposed to be a Knight bloody Captain_

She handed him a sheet of parchment listing injuries and days Suriel had been treated in the infirmary. His eyes flew wide and he blanched, all traces of the blush disappeared from his face as the blood evacuated.

 **This**  had been going on for nearly two weeks.

"Why was this not reported?" He scanned the document. Each entry had a cause listed. No one person Fell, Tripped or slipped on the stairs this often in two weeks. The infirmary had to suspect. How many people were complicit?  His head started to throb and he pressed his fingers to the center of his forehead.

Orsino opened his mouth to answer but Bethany beat him.

"Who would believe a mage over a Templar?"

"I..." Cullen felt the insult to his integrity and was about to respond when he forced himself to consider her words. He heard Brandeis' words again. _"Who is going to believe a maleficar?"_ Instead of finishing his statement, he snapped his mouth shut.

"He threatened to manufacture proof she was a blood mage, or possessed." he finally said "That is what he said to you before draining your mana."

Bethany gaped at him, eyes hard and Cullen shrugged. "Sound carries oddly in the Gallows. I heard you before I found you." He sighed. "I'm just glad I was there. I would hate..." He stopped, unsure how to continue.

Orsino and Bethany looked upset, but not surprised.

"This is not a solitary occurrence." he searched their eyes "Not just Brandeis, I mean?"

Bethany flushed and turned away. Orsino pushed his already thin lips together but held Cullen's eyes.

"First Enchanter, I have been trying alone to find the bad seeds among my Templars but neither my own men, nor the mages they swore to protect will speak to me."

At his words, Bethany turned back to him a look of surprise on her face.

Orsino moved to speak, but Bethany put a hand on his shoulder. "Knight-Captain," she said, gently and quietly, "Say that again."

Cullen's mind went blank under her intense gaze. He flushed. "Er..." Every muscle in the back of his neck tightened and he reached to relieve the stress. "Say which again?"

Cullen tried to go over his words, had he carelessly upset her? Did his Ferelden accent make him hard to understand? Couldn't be. She was Fereldan too.

"Neither your own men..."

Cullen was even more confused "Um. ...my own men or the mages they swore to protect wi..."

Cullen stopped speaking. Bethany Hawke had smiled at him. It felt like she'd opened the curtains on a brilliant spring day. Like rain on a parched field. When she smiled, she was a goddess. He gaped at her a blush spread from his hairline to his toes and the bottom fell out of his stomach. He might have swayed on his feet.

He could do nothing but look at her.

Orsino cleared his throat. Bethany looked away and Cullen was free of the thrall he'd been momentarily under. Free to finish his thought anyway, looking away wasn't going to happen.

"...they wil not speak to me and I am left with no way to find the perpetrator or perpetrators as it seems. In fact, I had to hear about abuses from an outside source."

"Where did you hear it?" Orsino asked.

Cullen looked at Bethany and she was the one to answer. "He heard it from my sister." She sighed "Freakin Marian Bleeding Hawke can hear injustice from as far away as Val Royeaux."

Cullen nodded.  He felt like he should feel guilty, but couldn't figure out why.

Bethany began to pace. "She knows about the harassment?"

"Not like this. She asked me to look into abuses of power by the Templars, but gave me very little to go on."

Bethany held his eye, her face a plea. "My sister cannot find out about this." she waved to herself and to the bruise forming on her throat.

"Enchanter Hawke." said Cullen with a gentle smile. "Contrary to popular belief, I have too much on my plate to report on one Hawke sister to another. Not to mention that I suspect that should she hear of this, Brandeis might have an unwelcome visitor and unexplained accident in his cell for which I would be forced to answer."

Orsino chuckled. Cullen wondered if the First Enchanter had met Marian Hawke. The woman was... formidable. While the two women had the look of each other, Marian lacked Bethany's gentleness and had a tendency to shove her daggers in a person's back while he wasn't looking. In her presence Cullen frequently felt like he should be guarding his privates, his mouth, or his purse. Sometimes all three.

She had a beautiful Mabari though, so he guessed she must not be all bad.

Bethany was regarding him, an odd look on her face. Had she realized he feared her sister the way a hunter fears the wolf, no more or less than taking all his attention lest she decide he was prey? He smiled uneasily at her, his hand going for his neck again and she flashed one back that did not reach her eyes. Too bad. When she was happy, the world changed around her.

He wanted her to be happy.  He wanted to  **make** her happy.  But for now, he had a problem to solve.

"This returns me to my point. Will Apprentice Suriel, or any other victims be willing to talk to me?" He turned his attention back to the First Enchanter.

Orsino shrugged. "I imagine it would be easier if they did not have to fear tranquility or death."

"I will do what I can. If I can garner enough proof, i may not have to name the victims. For this case, I saw enough. The apprentice's rib could only have been injured such by a shield and I heard him threaten Enchanter Hawke. My word should not be questioned. She should be safe this time. For any other, i will be circumspect, but I cannot guarantee... anything."

Orsino nodded. Cullen looked to Bethany who was regarding him. He held her eyes, hoping he looked trustworthy, ignoring his need to reach for her.

She appeared to come to a decision and nodded at him. "I will tell you what I know, what happened to me, and what I suspect. Provided it can wait till tomorrow." She yawned.

"It can, absolutely" Cullen responded and the mages turned to go.

"Enchanter Hawke, a moment." Cullen said. Bethany turned to him, Orsino paused at the door. "I uh.." he looked up at Orsino "wanted to commend you for your bravery and foresight back there. Not everyone would take on a Templar."

 _Not everyone could manage two spells so soon after having their mana drained_  "You appear to have recognized that attacking him would escalate and instead held him and protected me. From what I have heard, you know battle magic, but you chose not to use them lest they be taken as an attack. You allowed me to be the cause of his injury, keeping your hands clean."

Cullen looked in her eyes again hoping she would see what she was coming to mean to him.  She seemed stunned, but not in that way. "It was well considered," he finished lamely.

Bethany relaxed finally, no longer worried she'd face retribution for using magic against a Templar. "Thank you, Knight-Captain" she said, her voice throaty with emotion 

Cullen nodded to Bethany. Speaking was unlikely to happen at the moment.

To Orsino he said "Make sure your people travel in groups, even within the Gallows. Let them know that I will treat anything they tell me honestly without pre-judgement. That I am not... against them."

The mages turned again to leave and Cullen sighed. He needed to redo the duty rosters, make sure his men traveled in pairs, as many rounds and guard duties as possible filled with people he trusted to watch the others. He needed to interview Brandeis, and... he needed to sleep. He needed to NOT think about Bethany's torn robe, her figure, her transfiguration from woman to goddess. That damnable smile.

\-----

Bethany closed and locked the door to her shared rooms and leaned against it.

That man was infuriating. She had thought that Brandeis was going to do to her what he'd been doing to Suriel. She'd heard the rattle of another Templar and felt a moment of hope, just to hear the unconscious apprentice offered to him. For just a moment, she thought that he would turn out to be one of them.

Then he hadn't. He'd been her knight. He'd saved her honor. This kind of thing only happens in Isabela's trashy novels. It generally led somewhere that left her blushing and tingling. Reality was nothing like those novels.

Then he'd flushed as if it... she had meant something to him. Then in the same breath he admitted to seeing her sister.

If there is one thing Bethany knew it was that Marian was the beauty in the family. Marian was beautiful, Bethany was good, Carver was the hope of his father and the light of his mother's eyes. It was always how it was. Marian had the sass, the blue eyes, the lithe figure, and oh yes, she wasn't a mage. Bethany was the good girl. She'd been the one who listened to the chant, listened to Sister Leliana's stories, she was bookish, the one people talked to but she was not the beauty. Not the leader. People did what Marian wanted, whether they agreed, or even knew it, or not.

Marian had told Cullen to watch out for her, he was just doing what Marian had asked. He didn't give a flying fig for Bethany, he just wanted her sister.

Bethany dashed a tear from her eyes. Damn Marian to the void. And the dashing Knight-Captain with her.

Maker how she wished he really did look at her like that. She wanted him to be the one pressing her against a wall, not Brandeis whose breath smelled, whose little fennec eyes were too close together and who only bathed when they made him.

Bethany had guarded her chastity back at home. Some for fear she'd lose control of her magic, and some because she was holding out for some royal prince in disguise like sister Ley had told. She remembered marveling after the tales of princes turned to bears and charwomen turned princess because of a shoe or a well made shirt.

Now she was locked in a tower, surrounded by Templars bent on rapine and the one man who wasn't abominable among all of them, was interested in her sister. Oh how she wished she'd borrowed the coin from her sister when Marian had offered, back at the Rose. At least she's have got it out of her system. Known what she was missing.

Because Bethany had it bad for that Templar. The one with eyes exactly the same color as honey fresh from the hive. The one who'd probably been shagging her sister, or at least wanted to. And she didn't even really know how to take the matter into her own hands. The itch of it was going to drive her mad.

The maker had a terrible sense of humor.

Infuriating.

\-----

Cullen wiped himself with a towel. Chagrined and embarrassed that he had again succomed to this stupid crush on a mage. And not any mage. A Hawke.

Marian Hawke was a loose cannon. She'd hauled off and punched him once, threatened his manhood another, helped him more than once, and in between she begged him for news of her sister.

When he looked into her frigid blue eyes, he was generally trying to figure out which part of himself to protect. She might be "The Champion of Kirkwall" but he ranked her up there with the Carta as people most likely to shiv him on the street after dark.

If she found out he had a weird "crush" on her sister, she'd probably unman him. If she found out he'd just spent himself into his hand by imagining her sister's mouth, She'd probably take his tongue, eyes and testicles.

Cullen cursed himself and dropped to his knees beside his bed. He begged over and over for the Maker to take his sin away.

The maker never gave him what he asked for. He never took away the desire. Never made it easier to resist the urge to break his vow of vigilance. He hadn't done it at Kinloch hold, and he wasn't doing it here.

Cullen Stanton Rutherford was going to the abyss. He'd got lucky once. He'd resisted the temptation until the mage was harrowed, and before she'd broken through his inexperience and duty, the Warden Commander of Ferelden had left with her.

He couldn't decide whether the idea of an itinerant Grey Warden taking Bethany away instilled fear or relief. But the chance of a blight following so soon after the last were quite low.

He laid his head on his mattress and thought of Andraste, of the stench of abominations and days old dead at kinloch, anything to remove that damnable smile from his mind. But he kept being drawn back, the sparkle of her big brown eyes, the turn of her lips over the white of her teeth the way the room warmed and lightened when she smiled at him.

She was beautiful, no denying it, but that wasn't her draw. He had seen her before, at least once in the company of her sister, but he had barely noticed her. He had seen her, noticed her when he brought her to the Gallows, but it was not until they spoke in his office and she held forth intelligently on finer points of the chant as well as magical theory that he had fallen for her brain. And just today, when she had disregarded her own safety to protect another, he had fallen for her spirit.

Regardless, in his position of power, depth of emotion did not make him any better than Brandeis. Consent under duress is not consent and from where he stood, anything would be duress. Worse, any sign of his own interest in her would be turned against her. Rumor could sink her.

It could take him as well, but if it did, well,  it was only what he deserved.

This. Could. Not. Be.

\-------

Cullen was not the sort of leader who feared dirtying his hands. He oversaw training, stood guard duty, and he walked rounds. Especially now.

So it came as no surprise that he was rounding the corridor to the infirmary when the screaming started. The sound brought images of blood magic and abominations until a single voice stood above the others. It reached down into his gut and twisted.

The blood left his face and fear gripped him. _Bethany_.

He erupted suddenly into movement. Without sparing a thought for those he shoved out of his way, he ran into the infirmary, toward the screams.

Above the crowd, he caught sight of Bethany's hair and robes burning. Without a thought he reached toward her and dragged her away from whomever she had been struggling with. Before he realized what he had been seeing, he had removed his cloak and began beating out the flames. She struggled with him, trying to return to the fray, but he simply wrapped her up, head to toe and held on to her with all his might.

The flames rose from the bed unchecked and he saw a small form on it before one of the other mages had time to counter the fire charm.

He felt Orsino's hand on his shoulder and he stared wide eyed at the elf. The First Enchanter pointed at the bundle he held for dear life and though his arms wanted to hold tighter, he realized he still held Bethany who was choking and crying under his cloak. He released her to the First Enchanter.

In shock, Cullen looked at the charred corpse in the little bed and his eyes went around the room. A violet haze obscured his view. He saw again the mage abominations dragging Templars before him and tearing them apart. He heard Ser Hawthorne screaming as a Rage abomination burned her alive.

Hawthorne had been the first person who'd welcomed him at Kinloch. Not more than a year older. Her father had fought with King Maric against Orlais. She had been the only person to notice his behavior after Ethelin Surana left to join the Grey Wardens. Hawthorne was the only person he had confessed his feelings for the newest Grey Warden. Her death wasn't the last time the abominations had him screaming, but it was one of them.

The sweat dripped into his eyes and he closed them, dashing it away from his face.

The sound of armor clinking as the rest of the Templars arrived in force snapped him out of it. This was not Kinloch. It. was. not. real.

Cullen took a few breaths and opened his eyes rubbing them with his gloved hands. He did a quick visual count of the healers nearby and snapped, "What happened here?"

The sickroom matron and Templar stepped forward. Both still straightening their clothes from Cullen's mad dash through them.

"Ser," started the Templar, _Hasher_ , Cullen thought. "I did not see. Matron and I were on the other side of the room." Hasher fidgeted and gave an appealing look to Matron.

It is entirely possible Matron had a name, once. In a different frame of mind, Cullen could probably draw it forth, but everybody called her Matron. She nodded to the boy and stepped in front of him.

"One of the new alchemists mixed the wrong reagents and four acid burns and several coughs came in at the same time." Matron waved toward a group of older apprentices on chairs on the far side of the room. One had cloths over his face and was swearing up a storm because the healer behind him would not let him lift the cloth from his eyes until she was finished.

Cullen sighed and shook the sweat out of his hair. Then he glared at the room.

"There were nine people in this room when I entered." he said slowly, a dangerous sound to his voice. "Somebody, had to have seen something."

Orsino was whispering with Bethany, and Cullen had had just as much as he could stand. _How dare they?_ He opened his mouth to speak when Bethany shook her head and pushed the older mage away.

"I did. I know what happened. I saw." She looked at her hands, black with soot

"Please, Enchanter Hawke, educate me." Cullen was having trouble finding his patience.

Orsino stepped forward. "Knight-Captain, it is a delicate matter. We should discuss it in your off..."

Cullen slashed a hand downward, silencing the man. "Were you a witness?"

"No, Ser, but you said... Orsino said, using his best 'I'm being reasonable with a lunatic' voice.

"Knight-Captain, Ser," came the voice of the highest ranking of the Templars who had just entered. "What would you have us do?"

Cullen made a snap decision. His nerves were frayed and he needed a moment. He also needed to get to the bottom of this quickly.

He pointed out two Templars. "You two, interview the witnesses." He singled out two more "You, guard the door, nobody in or out until we know what happened."

"Enchanter Hawke, please come with me." Cullen did not touch the mage, but pointed her toward the door. They exited the infirmary while the guards took their places. When the First Enchanter tried to follow, they blocked him.

"You heard the Knight-Captain, First Enchanter." The older one said "Nobody in or out."

Cullen barely heard it. He opened the next door in the hall to find two tranquil working quielty on what appared to be custom enchantments.

"Out." he said. They filed out, unhurried but without argument and Cullen steered Bethany inside.

"Enchanter Hawke," Cullen took a deep, centering breath. "What. Happened." His jaw hurt from trying not to bite anybody's head off.

The mage refused to meet his eyes. Maker how he hated that. He wanted to reach for her chin and tilt her head up, but the temptation would be too great, even through the anger and fear. He stayed his hand and took another deep breath.

Bethany did the same, but hers had much more emotion in it. Her hands twisted in front of her, the soot smearing. He watched the patterns. "She was stable" The enchanter spoke with a child's voice. Cullen couldn't follow the relevance. "They were sending her back to her room. I came to collect her."

She stopped speaking for a moment, focusing on her breath. Emotion clearly too strong to speak through.

"She didn't want to leave, I told her you had him, that he couldn't hurt her anymore. But she said... Sh..She said... shesaidhewasn'ttheonly oh... ohh. ohhhh..." The sentence ended with a wail the likes of which he had never believed a Hawke to be capable of.

Cullen felt a pain in his chest, as if his heart had exploded. He reached for the mage and she fell into his arms, sobbing.

"Oh Maker, Bethany" he said, "I'm so sorry." He closed his eyes and took in her scent. She smelled of Elfroot and Wild Heather. She smelled like the high Ferelden plains in springtime.

After a moment he held her away from him, his eyes searching for injuries. "Are you harmed? I don't know what I'd do if..." His teeth clicked shut. That sentence didn't bear finishing. His feelings were wrong, they put her in danger. He hoped she hadn't heard. She was sobbing harder now.

Her sobs tore at him. He pulled her back in his arms and held her until she had no more sobs left.

When she had finished her face stayed in her hands and he heard some very wet sounds. Chastising himself, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. She blew her nose a few times and wiped her eyes. Then she swiped at his armor, but he shook his head.

"But" she sniffed wetly, "I got it all slimy." She blew her nose again.

"It's seen worse." He said, giving a disarming smile.

She made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh and wiped her face again.

"I always wondered how all the heroines could cry and then look so good." she said, turning half away from him.

He huffed a laugh "That's easy." he said. She looked up at him and he marveled that he'd never seen the little metallic specks in her eyes before. Green and gold and blue caught the light.

"It is?" she asked

"Absolutely," he answered "half of them are make believe, the other half, the bard who wrote it down was in love with her." The realization of just how deep he was in this did not give him warm feelings.

Bethany laughed, if wetly and looked him in his eyes. He drew off a glove and touched her face. She was so beautiful, he was so relieved, and she was right here in front of him. He found himself leaning closer to her. She licked her lips and he felt it in his gut. She was so...

Bethany looked away, breaking the spell. Cullen let go of her and turned away. "Maker," he gasped. "I'm so sorry, that was out of line." Cullen could not believe himself. Was it a spell? Not trusting after Kinloch, Cullen reached out with his magic sense. There was no spell in the air, nor on him.

Bethany coughed and he looked at her. "Knight-Captain," she said, her eyes somewhere to the left of his left ear.

"Cullen," he said.

"Knight-Captain Cullen" she corrected with a hint of her usual fire and he laughed. "I think I can answer questions now."

"Questions?" his attention was elsewhere.

"About..." she waved toward the infirmary.

"Right." Cullen began, mentally berating himself. "You said she was a patient at the infirmary. One of your youngsters?" he stopped.

Bethany was giving him a look that suggested he hadn't been paying attention. "No."

"My apologies," he said. "I have mis-stated?" he scratched his head, his eyebrows pressed together. "You said you came to escort her back to her room."

"They couldn't keep her any longer. I wanted to make sure she was not attacked on her way back to her quarters."

Cullen thought of the tiny figure on the bed. _Oh Maker, did he have rapists AND pedophiles to root out?_

"Surely a child would not..." Cullen stopped speaking. A memory percolated up. "Not a child, an elf. So you... Oh Maker's...um" he quickly censored himself "knees. That was Suriel." The floor disappeared under his feet and he felt faint.

Bethany nodded, sniffling and wiping her nose again. "She was small for her age, and since arriving, she hadn't had time to gain the weight she lost hiding on Sundermount"

"So that was why he thought he could make maleficar stick." Cullen had been told that some of the mages had become abominations, but the rest had surrendered. 

 _But **how** had he done it?_  Cullen wondered. "Do you think one of Brandeis' collaborators did it? I heard of some Dwarves in Ferelden who could make Lyrium dust explode."

He began to pace, trying to puzzle out how Templars might have set a mage afire in a room full of people without anybody seeing them. On his third lap she finally got his attention.

"Cullen" she used his name for the first time he could remember, grabbing his pauldron and stopping his forward momentum. He finally looked at her again.

"That is all too much work." She said "There is a very easy way to get rid of a meek little thing like Suriel." She looked at him. He tried to suss out her meaning.

The pause lengthened, he shook his head, he couldn't figure it out, she would have to tell him.

"You convince her she has nothing to live for. That it will get worse, and not better."

 _Andraste's tits_  Cullen thought _the girl did it to herself_

Cullen had seen his share of death. He'd seen a few mage suicides as well, but this was personal. That little elf had looked to him as some sort of savior and he had kept her physically safe, but hadn't thought to protect her mentally. He had **failed** her.

Perhaps moved by his stunned look, Bethany reached for him this time. But he turned away. He couldn't face the disgust he expected to see in her eyes.

"I... failed her."

"Oh yeah, This is ALL about you." Bethany spoke it, but the words were the Champion's. Cullen's eyes snapped to the mage's face.

 _Maker, even the look on her face is her sister's._  Cullen felt an insatiable need to cover himself, and -- as he did every time he felt it with Marian -- he instead stood taller and stepped closer. His amber eyes captured her chocolate ones.

He opened his mouth to answer the charge, and her eyes changed his mind. They were not Marian's frigid and unreadable blue ones. They were Bethany's, large, soft and brown and they were filled with pain and anger, not disgust. She had a point. Brandeis' trial was not the most important thing here. Cullen could have him transferred if he could not drum him out.

Bethany too stood down looking slightly embarrassed. "It's not your fault," she told him "none of us thought this might happen. Just find out who got to her and stop them from doing it again."

Cullen stood taller now buoyed by Bethany's belief in him "I can try." He answered nodding.

He would make good on this as best he was able. Because Enchanter Hawke believed in him.

**Author's Note:**

> >   
> __  
> Love is a burning thing  
>  And it makes a fiery ring.  
> Bound by wild desire  
> I fell into a ring of fire. Johnny Cash  
> 
> 
> This story was completely written when Glen Campbell died, which put me in a 70s Country mood, which made me realize that ring and circle are synonyms which led to some binge listening to Johnny Cash. Which led to me realizing that this was a great title. And if that didn't make sense to you, i'm sorry. If it did make sense to you, i'm even more sorry because I NEVER make sense when i write about me, or explain things, or really, do anything other than tell a simple story.
> 
> It was tough but I felt I had to tell it. Bethany isn't Hawke ONLY because Hawke is. Without Marian, one wonders which twin would have been the leader. 
> 
> Well, I don't ;)
> 
> Also, comments and kudos are welcome. I am new, so I'm even answering the comments.


End file.
